


Bookends

by TheBuggu



Series: We Belong to the Sea [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU: Humans, AU: Merformers, Gen, Mentions of graphic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3715681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBuggu/pseuds/TheBuggu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just why the heck is Spike Witwicky in Ratchet's office?</p><p>Takes place after We Belong to the Sea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bookends

**Author's Note:**

> Auuuuhhh. I've been off work for a couple days, but I was recovering from work a full week ;;;;; Sorry I haven't been very productive.

“So...Mister Witwicky?” Prowl questioned, quickly folding his arms at chest level as he watched the teenager. “I assume there's a reason I am needed here?”

Spike became silent after introducing himself and kneaded and rubbed his hands together, but Prowl knew the body language of guilt all too well. It was one of the first things working on on the police force taught.

“A few days ago...there was a call to the police station. About a Mer stranded on the beach.”

Prowl blinked and tilted his head. He stared down at the young teen quizzically. “Yes?”

“I...uh...It was me,” Spike admitted softly and glanced down. His fingers fiddled against each other on his lap.

“I see,” Prowl replied and stared from the teen, to Ratchet, and back again. “Calling in was the right decision. You made a good choice and saved that Mer,” he said with a reassuring tone, slowly unfolding his arms. “And I personally thank you.”

“But that's not all he needs to explain,” Ratchet interjected and shifted his chair. His eyes narrowed as he kept his gaze trained on Spike. “ _Right_?”

Spike flinched under the scrutinizing tone and silently nodded. He sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. “It's my fault. I...I'm so sorry.”

“You stranded the Mer?” Prowl asked with a growing frown.

“Yes. I mean—no? Not exactly. But, it's my fault. Everything.” His voice cracked. His hands were shaking. He took several shallow breaths.

Prowl stepped closer and gently placed his hand against Spike's attention. “Calm down. I don't understand.”

Spike stared up at Prowl with wide eyes. His lips quivered and he took a large breath of air. “My dad works in construction and repairs for the ports. He has a boat. I took it the day before I called and...I went to go find some Mers...” Spike avoided eye contact. “I just wanted to see some. I wasn't hunting, I swear!”

Prowl glanced to Ratchet again. He nearly felt as intimated as Spike from witnessing the pure anger on his face; Prowl rarely saw Ratchet so angry.

Spike paused, seeming to wait for a response, but a few minutes passed. He then hesitantly continued.

“I saw a whole group of them after driving for miles. Six I think... It was hard to tell one apart from the other. They were all the same greenish color. And...uh...they all had these purple lines?”

Prowl stood up in alert after the Mers' descriptions caught his attention.

“So when I saw them, I threw some fish chum in the water to try to get them to come closer. I wanted to take pictures to show my friends.” Spike made a heavy sigh and slouched back against his chair. “And they did...But before I knew it, one swam up really fast and...and...he just jumped out of the water. He landed on the boat!”

Prowl's eyes darted back and forth across the room as the teenager's words sank in.

“He tried to crawl towards me. I've never heard anything make so many growls and hisses before in my life! S-so I got scared and I panicked... I used anything I could to keep him away from me. Buckets. Life jackets... Even a roll of fishing line. I guess it finally scared him off? But, all the stuff went over the ship with him when he slithered back off.” Spike scratched the back off his neck and rolled up his khaki's right sleeve, revealing twin gashes trailing along his forearm. “Left me a souvenir...”

“What happened then?” Prowl asked pointedly, but he couldn't bring himself to look at the teenager.

“I just wanted to get away. I turned the boat back on and started to drive off.”

Prowl noticed how Spike's voice began to waver again. He even turned a few shades paler.

“I felt a bump.” Spike swallowed. “And when I looked back, there was so much blood.”

Everything flashed back to what the Mers told him; their words.

_Long boat came, throw food. Scrapper hit cutter._

Scrapper...

Prowl grimaced. He didn't even want to imagine how badly something like that could look. From either human or Mer perspective.

“I knew I hit one of them, but I couldn't stop...I just kept driving.”

“What led to the call?” Prowl asked. He gazed down at Ratchet's desk and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

“I was just taking a walk on the beach. I live really close by there and I just needed some air. I knew it was one of them. The fishing line on my dad's boat has a special coat that illuminates it at night.”

Prowl grabbed the only other chair left in Ratchet's office—a tiny stool that gave no back support—and slumped down on it. Realization weighed heavily on his chest.

“I'm so sorry. I'm sorry!” Spike's head wilted forward. His hands clutched at his pants. Tears dripped down his face.

“Why even fess up, kid?” Ratchet asked with a venomous hiss. “I hate to admit it, but we had no way of finding out what happened to that Mer. I expected some hardened fin-hunter, not some stupid child who broke several rules. Rules meant to prevent these ugly things from happening.” A fist slammed down on his desk. “I would laugh if I wasn't so enraged and disgusted.”

“I felt so awful. I can't even look at the ocean without feeling sick,” Spike replied softly between sniffles.

“Oh. You feel _awful_ ,” Ratchet nodded and answered with a mock sympathy. “Well, I'm sure the Mer are so understanding. Why don't I buy you a get well card with all those little frills and flowers and sparkles and let them all sign it for you?”

“I'm serious!” Spike snapped and lifted his head up. “Just a-arrest me already. Or something...”

“You aren't worth the time,” Ratchet said dryly, nostrils flaring.

“But I...There has to be something. Please!” Spike begged with quivering lips. “Anything...”

“Ratchet?” Prowl finally spoke again.

Ratchet, made a few inhales through his nose, and leaned back. “Fine. You want to _redeem_ yourself? Then get out of my office, stop at the entrance desk and grab a volunteer form. Show up every weekend at five a.m. sharp from this point on.”

Spike blinked in confusion and slowly wiped his eyes. “What?”

“Arresting you won't bring back the life you've taken. Make yourself useful and _learn_.”

The teen nodded briskly and quietly stood up from his chair. “Yeah. Alright. I'll do it.” He glanced at Ratchet and then to Prowl and opened his mouth again.

“Don't thank me just yet,” Ratchet interrupted.

Spike quickly turned away, with an embarrassed expression, but nodded once more. He reached for the office door with shaking hands and slipped out of the room.

“Guilt's a damn funny thing,” Ratchet spoke out loud and shook his head.

Prowl agreed.

They shared the silence together in the office for another hour.

 

**Author's Note:**

> 8C It's raining right now. The sky is crying for Scrapper ;w;
> 
> Also, you know the drill. Un-beta'd. ;U


End file.
